


Bakery AU

by 0Rocky41_7



Series: Hetalia Drabbles [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bakery AU, Human AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0Rocky41_7/pseuds/0Rocky41_7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A couple drabbles based on a tumblr idea about husbands Francis and Sadik owning a bakery and Alfred slowly becoming a part of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t have at title for this but usagi323 on tumblr [had an idea](http://theimpiousalliance.tumblr.com/post/142159591372/comes-sliding-in-frusturk-au-where-sadiq-and) for a Francis/Sadik/Alfred polyam with Francis and Sadik owning a bakery and taking on college student Alfred as their lover and I wanted to write a little drabble. In this scenario, they live above the bakery in an unknown country which is neither Turkey nor France.

“Francis?” Sadik called into the apartment as he stumbled up the stairs, carrying groceries he’d picked up at the market first thing that morning. Francis usually liked to go—it was one of the few things he’d get up for, maybe twice a week—but Sadik knew he had been up very late the night before. His chronic insomnia kept him up quite often and when he’d slept late that morning, Sadik silently got up to do the shopping himself. “Thanks for the hand!” he added sarcastically as he went into the kitchen and dumped the bags down, his keys clattering against the counter. He and Francis were putting a lot of work into their personal kitchen, and he couldn’t help but admire their latest upgrade, put in place when they had gathered up the cash—new countertops. Stylish, easy to clean and sturdy. They’d been a pretty penny, but worth it in the opinion of the two cooks.

“Are you _still_ sleeping?” As he slipped his coat off, he peeked into the bedroom. In their cramped bedroom, mostly taken up by the massive bed, Francis was asleep, and Alfred draped across his chest. It was tempting to at least wake Alfred up to come help unload the groceries, but Sadik didn’t want to chance him rousing Francis, which was a distinct risk. Francis was never pretty when he was woken up; Alfred didn’t even dare try, and was always somewhat awed when Sadik managed to coax Francis awake without getting snarled at.

So instead he went back into the kitchen, but Alfred joined him a few moments later regardless, wearing a pair of Sadik’s own sweatpants, rolled up at the cuff and still flopping over his feet. 

“Breakfast?” he asked, yawning and scratching his stomach beneath the Captain America t-shirt he wore. It was what he’d been wearing when Francis picked him up from the college campus yesterday.

“Sometimes I think you just come over here so we cook for you,” Sadik grumbled without bite. Alfred grinned his sunny smile and opened the fridge to help himself to some orange juice.

“You bet, why else would I be dating two old geezers?” He filled a glass up to the brim and swung the fridge door shut.

“You better not let Francis hear you say that,” Sadik warned, cracking a pair of eggs into a pan.

“Or what? He’ll take back his blowjob?” Alfred’s grin turned cocky, and he leaned back against the counter to watch Sadik cook. Francis and Sadik had approached the physical part of their relationship with Alfred very slowly, on account of his youth, but his staying over the night before had been a sort of ushering in. Even so, they had refused to go all-out with him yet, so Francis had consoled him with the blowjob.

“Aren’t you feeling sassy this morning?” Sadik pursed his lips.

“I feel good,” Alfred said, smiling. He did that an awful lot; Francis had told Sadik at first it was unsettling why their American customer kept grinning at him like crazy. Sadik had said it was just because Francis was so gorgeous. As it turned out, it was something of both—Americans smiling a lot and Alfred thinking Francis was, as he put it, “hotter than a barbeque in July”.

“And that means picking on the rest of us?” Sadik waved the spatula at him. “Not very grateful considering we fed you last night.”

“You also made me watch some weird black-and-white French romance film,” Alfred pointed out.

“You know, I may be wrong, but I seem to remember you getting teary-eyed,” Sadik remarked innocently. Alfred gagged on his orange juice.

“I did not!” he exclaimed.

“And even if you hadn’t been heartbroken by that weird old French film, the sheer quality of what we serve you compared to that swill you at on campus should make you eternally grateful,” Sadik added. Alfred shrugged.

“I don’t know, the campus food isn’t _that_ bad,” he said.

“Oh that’s it, no breakfast for you,” Sadik said, dumping some green onions into the pan. “Francis and I will split the rest.”

“Sadik!” Alfred whined. “You can’t do that, I’ll starve! I’m growing you know!”

“Sideways maybe,” Sadik quipped.

“Hey!”

“You two are so _loud_!” The protest came from the bedroom doorway, which didn’t shock Sadik; it had taken Francis a long time to be willing to present himself to Sadik in the morning without making sure his appearance was “acceptable”; it made sense he’d need time with Alfred as well.

“Uh-oh.” Alfred exchanged a guilty look with Sadik, as the Turk hurried over to the bedroom.

“Sorry Francis,” he apologized, wrapping his arms around Francis’ waist to pull him into an embrace. The Frenchman was standing in the doorway, rubbing one eye, looking a bit like he’d been asleep for a couple years. His sleeveless top hung lopsidedly off his shoulders and he was still warm from the nest of blankets.

“I was sleeping,” he complained quietly against Sadik’s chest.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Look, you can go back to bed while I do breakfast,” he said, rubbing Francis’ back.

“I won’t be able to _sleep_ ,” he sulked.

“Why don’t you go watch the morning news with Alfred then?” he suggested. Speaking of their young partner, he was hovering around between the kitchen and the bedroom, wanting to offer his apologies, but not sure he should intrude. He still felt sometimes like he was simply an intrusion on Francis and Sadik’s close relationship. They hadn’t told him a great deal about how they’d gotten together, but he knew from Sadik neither of their families had supported them, and they’d eloped. He didn’t know how old they’d been, or if they still spoke with their families. Sadik brushed it off, but Francis didn’t like talking about it.

He sighed and nodded a little. Sadik ran his fingers through Francis’ hair, trying very hard not to jerk through any knots, which surely wouldn’t do much to soothe him.

“I want to sleep,” he insisted.

“I know, you can take a short shift at the bakery today,” Sadik offered.

“No…I need to be there…”

“How about coffee, huh? I’ll make you some coffee. I got new imports stuff from Ankara last week, remember?” Francis was a sucker for Turkish coffee; he’d been in heaven when they visited Istanbul. Sadik felt Francis nod again, and he let go so his sleepy husband could go clean up a bit.

“Sorry we were too loud,” Alfred called weakly after him. He gave Sadik a hangdog look as Sadik got back to the kitchen.

“It happens,” Sadik said, waving. “He’s just very particular about his sleep.” Alfred nodded and looked down the tiny hall, but Francis didn’t emerge for a few more minutes, when he’d dressed in some casual clothes and brushed his hair out. He took the coffee from Sadik, exchanging it for a kiss on the cheek, and sat down on the couch.

“Are you coming?” He craned his head over the back of the couch to look at Alfred. The young man jumped a little, as if surprised to be invited, then nodded quickly and hurried over to join Francis in front of the TV.

“Sorry we were loud,” he apologized again as he settled in, glancing anxiously over at Francis.

“You look good in Sadik’s sweats,” was Francis’ reply. “Come over here.” Alfred moved closer, and Francis laid his head on Alfred’s shoulder with a quiet sigh. “Your voice carries, my dear.” Alfred whined. “What? It does, you can’t say otherwise.”

“You said it in English,” Alfred protested.

“Ah. Forgive me, mon chér.” That made Alfred smile and he felt a small whirl of butterflies. Trying to deal with his feelings for both of these older, attractive, foreign men was difficult at times, but he had certainly had worse problems to handle. It was thrilling, exhilarating, sometimes dizzying, but he never felt unsafe. Francis and Sadik were both very careful with Alfred and Francis was always attentive to his needs, even when those needs were space.

“How can you wake up to this?” Alfred asked, waving a hand at the TV. “It’s so much thinking and depressing stuff first thing in the morning!”

“I imagine, the same way you can fall asleep to _Thor 2_ ,” Francis remarked dryly. Too many explosions, he’d complained when Alfred had finally coerced them into watching it. Too much noise.

“Hey! _Thor_ is great, don’t diss _Thor_.”

“Great American cinema, yes,” Francis agreed, quietly sipping his coffee. Alfred’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out whether or not he’d just been insulted. Sadik called them for breakfast shortly after Alfred decided it wasn’t worth thinking about.

“What is it this morning, mon amour?” Francis asked, uncurling from Alfred’s side and meandering over to the table like a sleepy cat.

“Eggs and the rest of last night’s baguette with cheese, olives, and tomatoes, or jam, butter and honey if you prefer,” he said, pointing to the various items. “And more coffee if you like.”

“Yes, please.” Francis held out his mug and Sadik refilled it as they all crowded around the small dining table.

“So what’s the schedule for today?” Alfred asked, bouncing on his seat as he slathered his break slices in cheese and tomatoes.

“Well first, I’m dropping you back off at school,” Francis said. “We’re sure you have homework to be doing.”

“Aw! Come on, let me hang out a little while,” Alfred pleaded. The cowlick of hair sticking up in the front of his bedhead seemed to droop at the idea of being sent off so early.

“You’ve been hanging out all night,” Sadik pointed out.

“Please,” he begged, drawing the word out to a ridiculous length. “I won’t cause any trouble! I can do some reading in the bakery!”

“Will you actually do it?” Francis asked, delicately biting into a butter-and-jam covered chunk of bread.

“Why are you so concerned with my homework anyway?” Alfred asked with a pout.

“Because you’re very bright, and I won’t have us be the cause of you failing school,” Francis said, raising his eyebrows.

“I’ll do it, I promise. I’ll get all my bio reading done for this week,” he swore.

“Alright, you can stay then,” Francis said, while Sadik occupied himself seeing how many olives he could fit on a single piece of baguette. “In that case, I’ll take you back on my lunch break. I have many croissants and madeleines to make this morning, and Sadik is making cezerye today.”

“Can I help with anything?” Alfred asked eagerly. Sadik cast a somewhat alarmed look in Francis’ direction, but the Frenchman smiled placidly and Saidk knew he had the situation under control.

“As a matter of fact, yes. We need a load of cardboard boxes in the back broken down,” he said. Alfred looked disappointed for a moment and then firmed up.

“I can do that!” he said.

“Consider it your break from studying,” Francis advised.

“Are we starting right after breakfast?” Alfred asked.

“Of course. Those pastries don’t make themselves you know!” Sadik said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely headcanon Francis (especially in canonverse) as a chronic insomniac + Which is part of the reason he sleeps so late and is so pissy when he gets woken up + Alfred is currently undeclared but will eventually go into physics or astronomy
> 
> [On tumblr](http://imakemywings.tumblr.com/post/142163652205/turkfrus-bakery-au)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More for aph-bara-turkey and usagi323′s TurkFrUS bakery AU! Just a little drabble; I love cute baker husbands Francis and Sadik! This isn’t really “canon” since in the last (better-written) thing I mentioned that Francis and Sadik haven’t told Alfred much about their past, but it was fun to write the story from the view of them telling it to someone else, and I imagine Alfred is curious!

“How did you meet anyway?” Alfred asked from the table nearest the sweets counter. He’d taken to hanging around the café after class on days when he had the time, and since he continued to offer occasional help carrying things or cleaning up, neither Sadik nor Francis were protesting.

“Ah, that’s a nice story,” Francis said from where he was frosting eclairs. He’d moved the tray out to the front of the store so he could keep Alfred company while Sadik was in the back filling out some paperwork for that month’s revenue. 

“I mean, you’re kind of a weird couple,” Alfred went on, with his usual blunt, unnecessary honesty. 

“We aren’t weird,” Francis sniffed, casting an annoyed look over at Alfred, who shrugged and sipped his iced coffee loudly.

“We’re a little weird,” Sadik interposed, rolling the office chair closer to the kitchen door so he could enter the conversation. Alfred gave Francis a pointed look.

“Told you so. So come on, spill the beans. How’d a Catholic French guy and a Turkish dude end up doin’ the do?”

“Alfred, don’t put it so crassly,” Francis sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We’re married, you know. In France.” Whether or not that was recognized elsewhere was an entirely different question, but they had rings, so as far as Francis was concerned, they were married.

“Yeah, yeah, but I want the backstory!” Alfred slurped on his coffee again. “Come on, you’re dying to share, I can tell!” He offered one of his bright little smiles and it was hard to resist.

“Go on, indulge him,” Sadik said from the back. 

“Hush,” Francis replied, waving the frosting bag at him. “You already know the story!”

“But I like hearing you tell it,” the Turk returned, poking his head through the door with a winning smile. Francis smiled a little to himself, biting his lower lip as he went on frosting, pretending he was considering.

“Well it start when I worked at the bank,” he began.

“You worked at the bank?” Alfred asked incredulously. “What the hell?”

“Yes, I worked at the bank,” Francis said impatiently. “I’d finished school with a degree in fashion design and I had no idea what I was doing, and my maman wouldn’t let me stay at home without a job, so I worked at the bank.”

“It was a terrible job for him, I don’t know how he didn’t get fired,” Sadik put in. “He’s so disorganized.”

“Hush! I’m telling the story!” Francis protested petulantly. Both listening parties quieted down obediently and Francis glanced towards the door to make sure they didn’t have any new customers. It was a slow, late summer day; they were always busier in fall and winter, when people’s minds went first to warm pastries and not cold slushies. Alfred remained their only customer. “I worked at the bank and Sadik first started coming in the fall.”

“No, it was the summer,” Sadik corrected.

“No, it was fall,” Francis insisted. “Because one of the first times I saw you you had on an orange tie that was the same colors as the leaves outside and it didn’t suit you at all.” Sadik thought about that and then realized Francis was right.

“I always hated that tie,” he said. “Alright, it was fall. I was there for an internship,” he told Alfred, rolling the chair further into the storefront. “My parents sent me to school to be a lawyer. But I had a dream,” he imparted grandly. “I wanted to own a bakery.” 

“And I had no idea what I wanted, but I liked to bake and I liked to make clothes,” Francis said.

“So I started going to the bank in the fall,” Sadik went on, commandeering the tale. “And my stay in France wasn’t supposed to be very long. But I walked in and right there there’s this gorgeous French guy and what are you supposed to do? That had to be my new French bank from then on. Sure made me wish I’d studied my conversational French a little harder,” he said ruefully. “I knew very well how to talk business, but not so much how to tell somebody their eyes were bluer than the desert sky.”

“As if you could have,” Francis chided him playfully, nudging the chair with his foot, his hip popped to one side. “Any time you tried to have a conversation with me outside bank business you rambled on so incoherently I couldn’t tell if you wanted me to respond or just listen.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Sadik said to Alfred, shaking his head. “Francis just likes to think he makes everyone go gaga.” Alfred fumbled for a reply, and looked a little red, but Francis saved him from having to reply.

“Oh please! You once stood there and explained to me how serial radio programs work, as if I had never heard of one.” Sadik glanced away with a touch of bashfulness.

“Okay so that might have happened. But that was just one time!” Francis rolled his eyes and shook his head and went back to frosting the eclairs. “Anyway,” he went on to Alfred, rolling closer to the counter and resting one hand on his knee, “every time I see Francis I keep thinking I’ve got to say something witty and clever and then ask him out.”

“He never got to the ‘witty and clever’ part,” Francis interjected.

“Shush! I was very witty and clever, you just weren’t paying attention!” Sadik asserted. “It was a while this went on, I think.”

“Yes, it was a while,” Francis agreed, undescriptive. Still this was more detail than Alfred had gotten out of either of them about their past yet.

“And I’m still telling myself I’ve got to get this guy out to dinner at least once.”

“And so you studied how to flirt in French.” Francis leaned over to murmur into his ear, nice enough to at least not say it loud enough for Alfred to hear. Sadik’s face warmed. “Not that it did you any good,” he added in his usual voice, returning to his eclairs. For a moment Sadik was tempted to jerk loose the strings on Francis’ apron, but he refrained.

“Did you though?” Alfred asked, tilting back in his chair.

“Don’t break that chair,” Francis intoned without turning around. Alfred stared in wonder for a moment at Francis’ teacher-like senses, and put the forelegs of the chair back on the floor. “Or your head.” 

“Well see the thing is that while I’m working on my brilliant pick-up line, he just slides this piece of paper at me with my receipt, and it’s got his number on it,” Sadik said, still looking somewhat dismayed that Francis had beat him to it. “And he looks at me and says, and I quote ‘I get off at eight and I love Turkish coffee.’”

“What did you say?” Alfred asked eagerly. 

“Nothing,” Francis snickered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look as stunned as he did then, so I just left him to recover and went to do some other work. It was the most adorable face I’ve ever seen on him, I wish I had a picture.”

“I didn’t look that ridiculous!” Sadik tried to give Francis a little push, but only succeeded in rolling himself away. 

“He did,” Francis assured Alfred. “It was so sweet. And when I got off at eight, he was there, looking very spiffy and wearing some new kind of cologne and after we got coffee, I took him around to some of the landmarks…it was a very romantic evening,” he sighed dreamily. 

“I think you kept me out half the night,” Sadik chuckled. “Not that I was complaining!” he added to Alfred. 

“We had a lot to talk about,” Francis said with a shrug. “Sadik was just one of those people…” He smiled over at Alfred. “I could never get tired of talking to. And he had a lovely accent.” 

“I worked so hard to get rid of it,” Sadik sighed to their guest. “I wanted to impress him with my French, and all he said was, ‘I love your accent!’” Francis smiled to himself and Sadik shook his head in lament. 

“And so began our exciting little romance,” Francis said, finishing the last éclair on the tray.

“Which concluded with our eloping and running off,” Sadik wrapped up. Francis sighed and tapped the tip of the frosting bag on the counter.

“And here we are. I never would have guessed my dream was owning a pastry shop if Sadik hadn’t suggested it,” Francis said.

 

“He was such a good baker, I couldn’t believe he’d never thought of it!” Saidk exclaimed to Alfred. “The first time he had me over and served me something as a snack while he got ready to go out, I thought ‘This has got to be the man I marry. I need him for the pastry shop’.”

“I do a lot more than pastries!” Francis stuffed an éclair in Sadik’s mouth on the way by with the tray. “I was taken aback when he suggested it, honestly,” he confided to Alfred as Sadik protested the sudden invasion of food. “I love baking but I’d never even considered it as a career. It was just something I liked to do.”

“I told him he was crazy,” Sadik said, wiping éclair filling off his face. “He was stuck doing something he hated and it was such a waste!”

“I think that was the first time I considered running away with you,” Francis said, crouching to place the eclairs neatly into the display counter. 

“I’d say it’s worked out pretty well, huh?” Sadik grinned at him and Francis looked over, the corner of his mouth quirking in a smile. 

“As well as I could have dreamed,” he assured. 

“So who proposed?” Alfred asked, setting his coffee bottle down with a clatter. Francis and Sadik exchanged a glance and then Francis said:

“I think that’s a story for another time.”

“Well we could tell it,” Sadik mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Don’t you have paperwork to be filling out, Monsieur Business Owner?” Francis scolded him lightly, waving an éclair around at him with tongs. 

“Don’t you have pastries to be decorating?” Sadik retorted. Francis gestured to the tray of completed eclairs going into the display. “…point. It’s a story for another time,” he told Alfred, rolling backwards into the kitchen, clutching the remains of his éclair in one hand.

“Somehow I expected there to be more chaos,” Alfred admitted as Francis straightened up, éclair tray empty. He gave one of those faint little smiles that betrayed nothing except that there were things he wasn’t saying.

“It was chaotic enough for our tastes,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alfred is still platonic with them at this point + it comes before the last one I wrote + I'm not sure I want to consider this 'canon' since I think I mentioned before turkfra hadn't told Alfred about their past + Their relationship in France was a very emotionally turbulent time for them so it's not something they share in great detail + But it was fun to write about them telling the story to someone else 
> 
>  
> 
> [On tumblr](http://imakemywings.tumblr.com/post/142279052195/bakery-au)


End file.
